


Uncouth

by quicksparrows



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Edging, Illustrated, M/M, hahahah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-01 23:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10203704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: Gladio is a distraction, but a delightful one at that.[ILLUSTRATED; NSFW!!]





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Emmy:** [knife emoji]  
>  **Emmy:** Ignis is  
>  **Emmy:** Into  
>  **Emmy:** Edging  
>  **Me:** omg  
>  **Emmy:** Consider [thinking emoji]

.

 

Gladio's been sniffing around the kitchenette for an hour or more. When exactly he'd started, Ignis hadn't quite noticed; he's been too preoccupied with chopping produce, little chunks of onion sliding wetly against his blade. Eventually _sniffing around_ doesn't cut it, and Gladio's lurking begins feel more  predatory. A moment longer, and Ignis feels firm fingers trailing down his spine. 

Ignis becomes sure that Gladio came with more than food in mind.

"Noctis and Prompto won't be back for at least another ten minutes," Gladio says, low. Husky.

"And by then, dinner should be ready."

Gladio sidles up right behind him. For a second Ignis thinks he is going to be embraced, but Gladio's hands move to his suspender buttons instead. They pop, one by one; Ignis looks down at them and thinks that in a few years' time Gladio's wings will extend all the way to his fingers. This thought is meant to be a distraction, but it doesn't go far enough.

"Not if you get distracted," Gladio murmurs in his ear.

"Gladio," Ignis says, chiding, but that does little to deter Gladio, who starts unbuttoning his fly. Ignis feels acutely aware of the way he just pops the buttons open without grace or subtlety. Brute force.

Gladio's bare chest brushes his back.

"Relax," Gladio says. His broad palm glides down the front of Ignis' trousers, warm and — inexplicably, for an instant — wet with spit.

Ignis puts down the knife. He needs the extra hand, one to brace himself against the folding table's edge, the other to take Gladio's wrist.

"I'll be mortified if they come up that hill," Ignis warns, but his grip is light, and Gladio takes Ignis' cock out and strokes it anyway. 

(If Ignis were serious, he'd be getting that knife in the kidney, right between the ribs. Swift and deep, like perforating a pork shoulder for spicing.)

"Oh, come off it," Gladio says. "You're always quick. I'm that good."

His hand slides up the length of Ignis's cock, tight and firm. Ignis breathes in sharply, tense, and Gladio presses in from behind, bracing Ignis against his thick thigh. Ignis leans his weight back, even if he's tempted to press forward into Gladio's firm hand. He has some restraint.

Still, it's difficult to avoid the steady rise of his heartbeat, the flush of his own face. His teeth glide over his lower lip. His grip on Gladio's wrist seems silly, but it persists, and Gladio chuckles against his neck when he squeezes down.

"Don't you want to fuck into my hand?" Gladio asks.

He does. Ignis wants to fuck into Gladio's hand more than anything, push his cock through that firm grip again and again, but he refrains, and Gladio just continues to pump him until it hurts so sweetly. Ignis's head falls forward; his glasses swing a little precariously forward off his nose.

"If you don't, I'm going to get bored and leave," Gladio says.

"You're so uncouth," Ignis says. Probably not the kindest thing to say to a man pleasuring him, but Gladio chuckles.

"Alright. Suit yourself," Gladio says. He only jerks Ignis harder, in long, firm strokes, his thumb passing over the tip as he goes. Ignis lets a noise, a too-loud little gasp, the muscles of his abdomen tensing—

And then Gladio releases him and steps away. Ignis releases his wrist almost out of shock, his cock still pulsing erect in the cool evening air. 

"They're coming up the hill," Gladio says, and he claps Ignis hard between the shoulders, so hard that the head of Ignis's cock kisses the edge of the table. 

Ignis just breathes heavily and uncomfortably puts himself away.

"Thank you," Ignis says, though his fingers stumble over his buttons. He needs to reach his suspenders but one has shot over his shoulder.

"You're fucking weird, man," Gladio just says, laughter on his voice as he settles into a camping chair.

 

art by Emmy


End file.
